


Of Gods and Monsters, Fragment e7,3: Early February, 2078

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [29]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alliances, Assassination, Conditioning, Deception, Enemies, Fear, Fucked Up, Gen, Memory Alteration, Numbani (Overwatch), Oasis (Overwatch), Political Alliances, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Talon Emily "Oilliphéist" Gardner, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Talon!Emily, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Sombra (Overwatch), Upheavals, Vishkar Corporation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Moira O’Deorain has won. Her rivals within Talon destroyed, her trio of loyal Weapons - the Changed and copper-eyed Tracer, the silver-eyed Oilliphéist, and golden-eyed Widowmaker - at her command, to remake the world.A new balance of power within Talon is being struck, but Sombra has goals of her own in mind.This story - a side-step/alternate-ending sequel toThe Armourer and the Living Weapon- will be told in a series of eddas, sagas, fragments, texts, and cantos, all of which serve their individual purposes. To follow it as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	Of Gods and Monsters, Fragment e7,3: Early February, 2078

_That's one too many neurologists_ , Kamaria thought, leaving the board meeting. _And one too many hackers of the biological kind._

She'd flown to Oasis for this one. She'd started reading between the lines of the Vishkar work, and an anonymous bit of data dumped to one of her personal espionage groups had pointed the rest of the way, or, at least, far enough, and a few questions _in person_ seemed appropriate and necessary.

She didn't like the answers.

Vishkar hadn't made much of a push into Oasis, yet, but they'd certainly been trying to set up shop in South Africa. It hadn't taken her _that_ long to figure out why, in both cases. The new Ziegler Institute building in Numbani, right next door to the recently renovated and expanded Adawe Building, both using hard light technology awfully, awfully similar to Vishkar's - some licensed, some not - made Vishkar proper downright redundant.

Jabari had put a hard stop on new Vishkar - and licensed - development in his areas of control. But he couldn't stop it everywhere. His lack of attendance at this meeting spoke volumes, and the lack of attention paid to that absence by the Oasis faction - _the controlling faction_ , she thought, being honest with herself - spoke even more.

 _We were supposed to challenge humanity_ , she thought. _Not conquer it. Not **replace** it_.

Maximilien stepped up beside her, in the airport, as she headed towards departure terminals. She nodded, and put down her briefcase. "Hello, Max," she said, flatly. "This isn't a coincidence."

"Of course not," he said, smoothly. "Headed back to Numbani?"

"That was my intent," she said, gesturing towards the wall, out of the way of the travelling throng, and the two of them stepped to the side.

"I would reconsider that thought," he said, leaning against the wall, beside her. He'd been practicing his affectations, relaxation in particular. So useful in influencing humans. "Certainly for now - and most likely, as a long-term destination."

She frowned at him. "And why shouldn't I go home?"

"Oh, I merely suggest that it may not be quite as much your home as it once was, and that, perhaps, you may wish to travel."

"Morocco?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps. Or Moscow. Or Laval."

 _I've missed something_ , she thought, nervousness well concealed, but rising. "And... why is that?"

He looked at his fingers, as though examining cuticles he did not have. "A mutual friend has provided another fascinating collection of data involving a major construction and development company. One with which, I believe, you are familiar." He looked back up to her. "They just won a contract in Bloemfontein."

"I see," she said, leaning against the wall as well. "That _is_ news."

"There's no reason you would've read it yet - it appeared half an hour ago, during the board meeting. But it's certainly of interest. Perhaps you should join me on my flight home, and we could discuss the ramifications. I've already checked - there is an open seat in First Class."

"I have a friend in Bloemfontein, one I'd hoped to see today, but did not. I believe you do, as well?"

"It seems the operative word there would be... had," the omnic said, and her blood froze.

 _We're too late. God dammit, we're too late._ She frowned, grimly, and nodded. "I came via a private flyer. My pilot is waiting for me. If you're flying first class, then - perhaps instead of me joining you, you should join me?"

"That would be entirely acceptable," he said, allowing a hint of relief into his voice.

"Then by all means," she said, "let's go visit a friend of mine. Together."

\-----

"Never send a hacker to do a Weapon's work," Oilliphéist said cheekily.

"It's not my fault he wouldn't be reasonable. Besides, there wasn't time - we didn't even know he was running. We barely caught up to him as it was," Sombra lied, smoothly. "And you'd've shot him _before_ talking," she said, adding a truth.

Lena frowned at the hacker, and started to protest. But Emily interrupted her, before she could even start. "Na, na, love, she's right, I would've," she grinned, and Widowmaker chuckled, skitching at her wife's neck.

"I _wouldn't've_ ," Tracer said, frowning. "I bet I could've..."

"It doesn't matter," Moira insisted. "It's sloppier than I'd've preferred, and we'll be set back a few months - but we have enough of our people already in place to make it work." She drummed her fingers on the top of her desk. "I'm much more upset that we've lost Kamaria. And, I presume, Max."

"She would've been a valuable addition," Angela agreed. "His agents trusted hers, and they worked together well. She'd've been a natural successor - and once upgraded, well. Her talents would've been extraordinarily useful."

"That's true," amethyst-gold Sombra replied. _Which is exactly why I needed to be sure you wouldn't have her._ "Sorry."

"Maybe we can still catch up with 'em," Tracer said. "They're probably headed to Morocco. I never did get to try that canopy-to-canopy teleport," she said, her copper eyes flashing. "It'd still be brilliant!"

"One never knows..." the goddess of the mind murmured.

Angela checked the posted flight plan, via Oasis's flight control centre, and frowned. "They're not headed to Morocco. They're headed to _Moscow_. And," she tsked, "are already in Russian airspace."

"Damn," the Irish geneticist spat. "Well, that's the dog's breakfast, then."

"We _could_ still..."

Moria shook her head, firmly, no. "I admire your enthusiasm, Lena, but... they're almost certainly headed to Volskaya Industries. Let's not take on the entire Russian air defense network."

"Bet I could," she smirked. "They're _so_ slow."

"Even if you won, it would be an act of war. And you'll remember how well that went for Helix."

Tracer slumped, remembering. _Bloody buggery Russian Air Force..._ She pursed her lips, though, and nodded. " _Fine._ We'll try again, though. Later."

“Max will go back to his casinos eventually,” Moira said with certainty. “He's never been able to trust his subordinates to run them properly. Once he does, we’ll... urge him to reconsider. And Kamaria's almost as hands-on as he is - I'm sure we'll have a similar opportunity with her."

 _Not if I can help it,_ thought Sombra, the Self-Made, as Lena pouted but accepted her mother's decision. _Pretty soon,_ she thought, gaze firmly on O'Deorain, _I'll have my shot. And I won't miss that time, either._

**Author's Note:**

> To follow this story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual eddas or sagas.


End file.
